Intermezzo
by omens
Summary: “You look just like a song right now.” Chris/Peyton, Lucas/Peyton Angsty little one shot. Takes place sometime after ‘Hundred.’ Slight AU.


**Name:** Chris

**Title:** Intermezzo

**Fandom:** One Tree Hill

**Genre:** Angst

**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** "You look just like a song right now." Chris/Peyton, Lucas/Peyton Angsty little one shot. Takes place sometime after 'Hundred.'

…0…

On thing Peyton has always loved about Brooke was her huge heart; she was generous to a fault, and just as loyal. And as soon as her line took off, she resorted to her high school habit of spoiling her best friend, buying her anything she thought Peyton would like.

Brooke sends her expensive, exclusive, beauty products from Paris on almost a weekly basis. Perfume, makeup, and what could only be described as miracle potions that would cover most people's yearly rent. Peyton's favorite is the body wash-thick lathering, smelling almost overpoweringly of jasmine, and it takes the entire bottle before Peyton finally feels clean again.

_Lucas will love it…XOXO, Brooke._

The card stays tucked in the corner of the small mirror hanging over her dresser, cheery words and classic Brooke flirtiness peppering along the pink velum like an undercurrent.

Peyton breaks the pretty glass bottle on the ugly ceramic tile of her shower before the water has even gone down the drain, hoping the flowery mist will overtake the scent of cologne still lingering in her bedroom.

…0…

Chris Keller shows up in LA six months after The Visit. That's how Peyton refers to it now. An event like that, a moment in time that alters everything you know and hold dear, deserves the recognition of capital letters.

Of course Chris Keller is there. That's who he is. Unexpected, unwanted, and unforgettable in his wake. He shows up at the best of worst possible times.

"Well, well," he draws. The bar stool beside her has remained empty most of the night. The club is half full of people she knows, half of people she doesn't, and all of them can read the 'back off' vibes before identifying the source. A few have tried to invade her solitude; small talk, jokes, come-ons. None have dared to smile at her while ordering a round of drinks however. "Fancy seeing you here."

"You would be here," Peyton remarks, not even bothering to look at him. Only one person had the audacity, stupidity-what have you, to mess with Peyton Sawyer when a black cloud a mile wide hung over her head. Only one person had that particular Southern twang to his voice, that particular scent of rain water and old vinyl.

His drink is barely on the bar before he downs it, his head thrown back so fast it wouldn't surprise her if his neck snapped. There are reservations, too many to name, at drinking anything he bought her, but the dark amber liquid is rich and looks more soothing than she deserves right then. "Chris Keller is everywhere."

"Is it possible for Chris Keller to be anywhere else right now? Peyton Sawyer isn't really up for company at the moment," she says acidly, not able to stop herself. She always hated his tendency to refer to himself in the third person.

He chuckles. "So what else is new, Blondie?" Peyton watches him tap his palm on the polished wood of the bar, signaling for the bartender. "Hit me."

Something is different about Chris Keller. Something, dare she say dark, lurking just beneath the surface, and he can be as textbook jerk as he wants to be, pretending he knows her so well that he's entirely unaffected by her presence, and it won't matter because the difference remains like a thin gloss covering a chipped piece of furniture that sits forgotten in the corner until you bump your knee against it.

It was an unplanned stroke of bad luck that they happened to stumble across one another, three thousand miles away from the place they first sparred off. Bad luck, but luck of the unavoidable variety no doubt. Sometimes it seemed like the universe sought out ways to torture Peyton.

There was no better way to do that than to throw Chris Keller, in all his leather clad glory, at her-even now.

Peyton turns, finally looking him over head to toe. "What are you doing here, Keller?"

"Did you forget that I'm a musician? I go to more of these things in a year than you used to go to pep rallies." He downs his drink, throat muscles moving rhythmically, and looks her in the eye. "You?"

"I work for the company." She throws it out like it's not the big deal it had once been; to her, to Lucas. The memory of the first conversation with this man-his dismissal of her musical taste-still leaves a bitter tang in her mouth, and she wants to erase it with the taste of revenge, of proving him wrong.

Chris swings around on his barstool, knee coming within a breadth of her own. "There a shortage on Emo?"

"Ha ha," she says dryly, raising a hand for another drink of her own. "I'd hoped that you would have gotten just a smidge funnier with time. Or funny at all, really."

"I could say the same thing to you," he shoots back. "So where's the entourage?"

It's a common enough term in LA. Everyone has one-everyone who's anyone. The rest are all trying to get one. Peyton and Chris go far enough back, however, for her to know that he doesn't mean managers or agents. He means Brooke. Lucas. Haley, Nathan, Mouth. Maybe even Skillz.

"As far as I know," she says as she moves her glass around to make the melting ice cubes spin, "they're all where they were the last time I talked to them."

"And when was that?" he prods.

Peyton has perfected what Brooke refers to as her 'Tough Bitch' look, the one honed in Tree Hill on slobbering jocks including Nathan, and perfected on handsy musicians in LA. It's her most obvious way of getting her point across without having to come right out and tell someone off.

And of course, it does nothing to deter Chris Keller. He tries again to get an answer but in all honesty Peyton is too embarrassed that the only one she's spoken to in six months is Brooke, and more than a week has past since that.

"Would you just mind your own damn business, Keller," she finally explodes, startling a waitress and two A and R reps in the process. She doesn't care that she's overheard, but she does care that this is supposed to be a work function. Too bad she hasn't really done any work all evening.

Peyton can never quite put her finger on why, but Chris Keller's laugh has never sounded anything less than mocking to her, condescending even. He's an ass, an arrogant one to boot, and the vainest person she's ever known and yet there's still something heartbreakingly honest in his music that she can't help but wonder why there never seems to be any sincerity in his normal speech.

Most likely, it has something to do with her. It wasn't as if she went out of her way to be nice to him. Exactly the opposite in fact.

"Fine, fine" he draws. Up on the stage, some girl in a too tight dress and too high heels taps the mic, feedback drawing the eyes of the crowd. She announces Chris, and he saunters away, throwing a wink back at her. The desire to smack him once again across his smug face hits her.

"How y'all doing tonight?"

Peyton rolls her eyes. Only Chris Keller could sound both egotistical and bored with so few words.

"This one goes out to an old friend." His smirk seems mocking under the harsh stage lights. A few eyes turn in her direction, she spies her boss staring at her, and whispers start about him being the only person she's really talked to the entire evening. "I am your never say never…"

Music strikes a chord with Peyton when nothing else does. There's a reason why she went to Chris and asked him to play the Tric opening, despite her personal feelings. Even when he's just stands around, in a rare moment of silence, he exudes antipathy and indifference. But all it takes is one solitary note of music to change him. For all the façades of not caring he likes to put up to crumble. Hearing one of his songs out his knowledge of pain and human nature.

Chris Keller understands people. He knows what makes them tick. And Peyton Sawyer is no exception.

"What if we threw it all away, rode out on the wind…"

Peyton feels something splinter inside of her chest, deep down where she's been burying all those painful emotions tied to Lucas, and she clutches her stomach with the sudden pain. Chris has his eyes trained on her while he plays. If she were a little more on the vain side she'd think that maybe he planned this. But as it stands now, he's getting to her without meaning to. She can't stand to be under his scrutiny any longer.

He finds her in the side hallway after his set, leading from the rear employee entrance to the offices. No one ever ventures there; it looks too official and posses that institutional air that drives the club hoppers away.

"Was it that bad?" She doesn't have to look away from the floor under her to know that he's smirking. She can hear the sarcasm and well, he knows his music is the only thing about him that Peyton has ever liked. "You know," he continues, "where I come from, when someone dedicates a song to you its only polite to say thank you."

"Lucas broke up with me." Peyton whispers and a sob erupts from her chest before she can stop it. Hand on her mouth and eyes closed in embarrassment, she turns her head to the side, letting her cheek rest against the cool concrete wall behind her.

Peyton is peripherally aware of Chris's movements as he turns his lanky frame to stand beside her, their shoulders touching before he settles. A feeling of 'What now?' feels the air as he awaits her next move or next word. He's not going to push her on this, and maybe it's the tears talking or the polite silence, but it means more to her than she would ever admit.

"I said no," she raps. "He proposed. And I said no. Now he hates me."

"Come on, Blondie, if he had it in him to hate you there never would have been a proposal to begin with."

Now she turns to look at him. "You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

He grins, shrugs. "I'm Chris Keller."

That was the sum of it all. Chris never made any excuses for who he was or what he did, showing up unannounced, hair tousled and blue eyes bright against the black sky and a smirk too knowing to be trusted. Peyton's yet to see him without some ulterior motive flashing in his eyes, enough sarcasm running through his veins that he can stun her into silence with one smart ass remark. Who could even begin to calculate the number of times that attitude had gotten him out of something that he really should have been arrested or punched for.

Peyton wonders what it's like to go through life so guiltless.

"What about you Keller?" she asks, curiosity overruling her common sense. "Ever had your heart broken?"

His head lowers toward hers, like he's about to reveal something sacred. Instead, he grins at her and says, "How about I buy you a drink and tell you about it?"

"So there is something to tell?"

"You can't write about love until you know heartache, Curly. You know that." He winks.

Despite herself, Peyton laughs, the vestiges of her tears turning it more in a hiccup than anything else. "That would imply you actually have a heart under all those rhinestones." Her eyes light over the studs of his jacket.

With a sweep of his arm, he ushers her out of the hallway, then the front door, drawing stares from her co workers until Chris shuts the door to the old Camaro by the curb.

…0…

The bar two blocks from Peyton's apartment has become a very familiar spot in the months since Lucas's visit. It has that air of seclusion that she likes. It's dark, never crowded, and the cliental like to keep to themselves.

And it takes less than an hour for Chris Keller to either charm or piss off everyone there.

"You certainly do make an impression," Peyton remarks, smiling due to the three beers she's had since coming here. Combined with the drinks at the club she's just drunk enough to do something reckless.

Reckless sounds good to Peyton. She hasn't been reckless in such a long time. She's been responsible, hard working-everything she always thought the music industry could do without.

"So…tell me about the girl."

Knocking back another bourbon, Chris wipes his mouth and fixes wary blue eyes on her. "Her name was Ally. I was 16 and head over heels."

"What happened?"

Chris signals for the check. "She married my brother." A beat. "It seemed only fitting after he knocked her up."

"I'm sorry." She says it because that's what you say to someone when they tell you a less than fairytale ending. It doesn't matter if you really mean it or not. That it probably sounded insincere didn't occur to her however until the sound of Chris Keller's trademark mocking laugh sinks in.

He lays the bills on the bar and holds out a hand for hers. There's mirth dancing in his eyes, his lips quirked up, and for once it doesn't grate on her nerves. "Everyone always is. What about you and Scott number two? Any chance for a take…whatever it is you guys are on now?" His arm finds it's way around her waist when she stumbles, catching the heel of her limited edition Clothes over Bros stilettos (from Brooke, who insisted all the artists at her label would die in jealousy) on the heel of a chair by the door.

"Nope." She's far past tipsy by now. What else would account for Peyton Sawyer letting Chris Keller touch her? "I said not yet to legally binding and he wouldn't wait." Hot tears build up behind her eyes and before she can stop it she blurts out "If he really loved me…wouldn't he wait?"

In his eyes she reads sympathy, and yes he's Chris Keller, but at the moment he's opening himself up to her in exchange for her doing the same. "Maybe he was scared." Peyton dips her head and he pushes her curls away from her face so he can see her better. "You're something to be scared of, Blondie."

For one breath, it seemed as if the entire universe teetered on the brink of upheaval as she looked into a pair of eyes so blue they momentarily erased all thoughts of another pair of blue eyes from her mind. Intellectually, she knows with every fiber of her being that her entire world could be forever altered by just the thoughts she was having, and yet it feels as if some madness has taken possession of her-body and soul.

The first time Peyton kisses Chris she does it hard, presses her body flush against him, and shuts her eyes so tight that white spots pop up behind her eyelids-not opening them until he pulls back and there's no other option.

Her heart plummets through her feet and she has to face the music now and own up to what she's just done.

All of Peyton's instincts are telling her to run-to turn and flee as fast as she can, better to forget all about Chris Keller and those damn eyes of his.

But she never gets the chance. Before a thought can even form itself in her mind, Chris covers her lips with his own, fingers in her hair, and presses her back up against the dingy wall by the door. None of the other patrons even notice.

…0…

Peyton has lived in her apartment ever since her second week in LA and there are still boxes scattered around the floor-things her father thought she would want that she couldn't bear to open.

She was sure Chris would have some remark about that if he weren't so busy working the zipper of her dress downwards.

It floats through her brain that she's going to hate herself in the morning for doing this. Hell, she may hate herself forever but she's too far gone to care. Peyton is sick of being lonely-of being **alone**-and tonight she doesn't have to be. She can live with the regret if it means putting a pause on the silence.

Chris's hands are all over her; skimming down her back and over her collarbone, up her thighs and across her stomach. "You sure about this?" The sound of fabric rustling as first her dress then his shirt hitting the floor reach her ears.

A "no" is mumbled against his lips at the same time fingers pull his belt buckle loose, clumsily.

When goose bumps spread over her skin-whether from his chuckle or tongue tracing her lips she's not sure-Peyton is pretty damn positive that no is just a hope at holding out some dignity from a one night stand.

"Now say it like you mean it," he whispers, his hand reaching out to brush over her neck. She shivers, and he took that as a good sign to get closer. He bends his head; his lips moving over her shaking shoulders, up her neck were her pulse races. "Just promise you're not going to smack me again in the morning."

"I make no promises," Peyton remarks, tugging his hair to direct him where she wanted. "But if you're actually still here in the morning…we'll see."

…0…

"You look just like a song right now."

There are no visible traces left on Chris after he buttons up his shirt the next morning. All the minute evidence Peyton's left on him is covered up and he looks…the same, she notes. He's the same Chris Keller who pissed her off in twenty seconds the first time she laid eyes on him. But though it's only been a few years in reality, 16 feels like a lifetime ago to Peyton now.

16 doesn't last and thinking things-people-won't change make you a fool-just like believing a night together would alter Peyton's vision of Chris Keller.

It takes more energy than she thinks she has left to muster up a small smile. Under other circumstances she would take the comment as a tailor made compliment. The only difference is who it's coming from-not to mention the situation they're in. So she pulls the thin sheet a little tighter around her body and tells him thanks for being there for her the night before, feeling the guilt seep in when he nods in understanding and shifts to lean against her door frame. Peyton takes him in; the casual stance and the knowing look, the sense of remorse for using him settling heavy in her stomach.

He must recognize the expression on her face, for his demeanor becomes a tad more sober than merely accepting a brush off. "Hey…its okay. I get it, okay? I'm not the guy."

Peyton smiles and this time its not forced. "You're gonna go write a song about one night stands, aren't you?"

"Well not all of us dream of a love that even time itself will lay down and be still for."

She sits straighter, narrows her eyes. "You totally stole that line from _Practical Magic_."

Shaking his head, he laughs. "Damn. And here I thought I was being smooth with my exit line."

Peyton's face turns serious; she licks her lips from nerves. "Take care of yourself, Keller."

He nods. "You too, Blondie. And lay off the Emo-I think you've had enough," he adds, the words fading into footsteps down her hall to the front door.

When she falls back, images of sensations flood her brain and suddenly she can't breath. She can't stay still. The sheets are damp, sticky, and they smell like him instead of her. Standing abruptly, Peyton tears them from the bed, hearing the fabric rip and tosses the heap into the corner of her sparse bedroom, throwing open her window in hopes that the early morning air will clear Chris Keller from her room and her memory.

…0…

"I slept with Chris Keller."

For as long as Peyton Sawyer lives, even if she makes it to one hundred years old, she will never forget the look on Lucas's face when he finally understood that she was turning down his proposal.

People always leave. Peyton has believed that, expected it, for as long as she can remember and that night Lucas became one of them. It had never mattered that they were three thousand miles apart. Their hearts were together and that was all that had ever really mattered to them; a tie that could never be severed.

When Peyton refused the ring Lucas cut the ties and didn't look back. That's what she had always assumed at any rate. In truth, he carried her in the back of his mind everyday just the same way she did him. Every look, every touch was ingrained in her as well as the sobering look of disappointment and heartbreak he'd worn in that hotel room.

It was the exact same expression on his face once the laughter dies away.

"Peyton, come on. That's not funny."

Seven months, three days. It was winter in Tree Hill and no one but Haley had heard from Lindsey; a fact she kept from Lucas but Peyton got secondhand from Brooke. The attempts to get her back had stopped. The denial of his feelings were just humored at that point. Still, Peyton was a risk he wasn't quite ready to take.

So she suggests dinner.

Weekly, on Thursday nights, they have a small dinner at his house. He cooks, she cleans up. The domesticity is enough to make her heart feel like it was about to burst until the moment when she shut her car door and she deflated. It was a slow, painful process and more than once tears stung her eyes before the evening came to a close. But she worked long and hard to convince him to even consider it so she's not about to screw it up now by expecting more.

Nathan often compares their ritual to pulling off a band aid slowly. He remains convinced that they need to just tear it all off at once-decide what they want and hash it all out. Why drag all the pain out?

It takes the email from the one contact she's kept from her old label about Chris Keller's signing with them for Peyton to admit he's right.

"Its not a joke, Luke." She watches the light of from the candles flickering in her glass of wine. Licking her lips, she raises her eyes up to his. "A few months after…" She couldn't bring herself to bring that moment up yet again. "I was at this industry party in LA…I had no idea he would be there." Tears gather in her eyes, causing the colors to blur before her. "I just missed you so much."

"You missed me so you had sex with Chris Keller," Lucas spits the name out like it tastes bad. The thought of Lucas's face when he told her about Chris and Brooke comes to her memory. She thinks back on Nathan's bitterness when Haley went on tour. The nausea of her own morning after was still all too fresh in her mind. "That makes a lot of sense, Peyton."

"I was hurting, Luke," she admits. "And he was there. He didn't take advantage of me." She pauses, pondering. "Or maybe he did. Maybe I just used him, who knows? The point is…" Her words get halted by the way he's looking at her; like she's just admitted to being Dan's accomplice on the day of the shooting. Peyton shudders. "I guess I don't really have a point. I just thought you should know."

It's a confession she's never made to anyone-not even Brooke. But she has offered up her heart and being for the love of this boy longer than is healthy given their history of hurting one another. There honestly isn't all that much about Peyton that Lucas Scott doesn't know-nothing else is coming to mind at the moment, and she refuses to let Chris Keller be that one thing hidden from him.

"You have every right to be angry-" she begins when the silence lapses on long enough for the candle flame to lower enough to brush the melted wax gathered and flicker. He stops her.

"No I don't."

Something squeezes painfully in her chest. Hope?

"We were over, and as hurt as I was…am…it was my fault." He went back in time in his head, back to that hotel room. She knows the look from when he talked about Keith or those days on the River Court. "I can't judge you for what you did after we broke up. I was the one who wouldn't listen."

This is the moment that Peyton remembers why all he has to do to make her come undone is simply **breathe**. He's that part of her soul that's been dormant for the last three years, revived by a confession of the solitary moment she was sure would break the fragile truce they'd been operating under.

"So you don't hate me?"

"I don't have it in me to hate you, Peyton." Lucas squeezes her hand across the table, smiling at her with the reigned in feelings he'd exhibited as Brooke's boyfriend once upon a time. Her heart flutters madly, like the moment he first kissed her.

So Chris had been right, all those nights ago in LA, and silently Peyton thanks him, wherever he is tonight, for being a distraction and a pain killer.

The next time Lucas proposes, a year later, the song playing on the radio is one they heard at Tric when they were nothing more than kids, coming from the lips of a tall boy with the bluest eyes Peyton Sawyer has ever seen and a heart hidden beneath the sarcasm of a broken heart she's witnessed firsthand.

Lucas doesn't even mention seeing Chris Keller's name on Peyton's list of wedding guests.

Chris doesn't show up, he just sends a bottle of bourbon to the reception with a card saying 'I told you so' that Peyton keeps hidden away in her desk drawer-just in case.

…0…


End file.
